


Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame

by illuminatedcities



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Breathplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, collaring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illuminatedcities/pseuds/illuminatedcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Harold pushes him down, knots intricate patterns of rope over his limbs and ties them to the bedpost:<br/>It’s a dance, a promise. Harold’s fingertips are all over him like a benediction, a religious ceremony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_ragnarok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/gifts).



> <3
> 
> Title from Halsey, "Gasoline".

When Harold puts on the collar, John bends his head and licks Harold’s fingers. He draws Harold’s thumb into his mouth, worshipfully sucking on it while making small sounds low in his throat.

Harold carefully removes his thumb and presses it under John’s chin instead, tilting his head up.

“Aren’t you eager for it,” Harold says, gaze unreadable where the light reflects on his glasses.

He’s still fully dressed, only his jacket is folded neatly over a chair and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up.

“Yes, Sir,” John rasps, tenting his boxers obscenely.

Harold presses down and John bares his throat, his eyes fluttering shut. The pale skin near his Adam’s apple is sensitive, vulnerable, and Harold presses his open mouth against it just beneath the soft leather collar, turns the caress sharp with the edges of his teeth.

John shakes beneath him.

Harold kisses a wet trail down the side of John’s neck and then bites down, and John draws in a desperate, gulping breath.

(There is a routine to nights like this, the delicate push and pull of Harold’s hands on John’s body:

The way Harold pushes him down, knots intricate patterns of rope over his limbs and ties them to the bedpost. It’s a dance, a promise. Harold’s fingertips are all over him like a benediction, a religious ceremony.)

John reacts to the cadence of Harold’s voice, every gesture of his hand, bowing his head and getting to his knees, exposing himself, opening himself up for Harold’s pleasure and his own.

John is spread out like a work of art on the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded.

He is biting his lip when he takes off his underwear, mock-timid.

“Spread your legs,” Harold says and John does, showing himself off, writhing on the bed, a lazy, pleased grin on his face.

Harold holds out his palm to John and says “Lick my hand.”

John runs his tongue over the skin eagerly, and then Harold reaches down, his hand inches from John’s flushed, erect cock.

“Beg me for it,” Harold says dispassionately, as if he might as well leave the room and read a book instead.

“Please, Sir,” John moans instantly, almost breathless with arousal.

“Please what?” Harold asks, fingers drawing circles on the skin of John’s thigh.

“Please touch me,” John whines, teeth sinking deeper into his lower lip, eyelids fluttering.

Harold raises an eyebrow.

“Sir,” John breathes, instantly.

Harold reaches out to hook his index finger under the collar. He gives it a sharp tug, enough to make John draw in a breath of air.

“Please,” John says, swallowing hard.

Harold runs his hand over John’s cock. John gasps.

“Yes, John?” Harold says, thumb pressing against the sensitive spot just beneath the crown, caressing the skin ever so lightly.

“Let me suck you off, Sir, please,” John blurts, licking his lips instinctively, “I’ll make you feel so very good.”

Harold lets go of the collar and closes his hand over John’s erection instead, letting him push up into his fist.

“Maybe if you’re very good today, I’ll let you,” Harold says.

John lets his knees fall open, throws his head back and moans in pleasure while Harold jerks him off, taking him to the brink of orgasm multiple times only to ease off again.

“You’re so desperate for it, so needy,” Harold says, his voice making John shudder. “Maybe I’ll use my fingers on you first, watch you fuck yourself on my hand.”

John whines at that, mumbling “please” and “yes”.

Harold leans over him, covering the leather collar with his hand, pressing down the slightest bit until John feels the edges of his vision go dark.

“Or maybe this instead,” Harold says thoughtfully.

Harold gives John two more firm strokes and then lets go of his throat, and John’s whole body jerks when he comes. He shudders, a string of helpless, needy sounds coming out of his mouth.

Harold leans back to watch, considers the rope, the handcuffs, his drawer full of toys.

(This is how it goes: “Down,” Harold says, and “Don’t move,” and “Touch yourself” and every time John does, lets Harold take him to pieces, and John comes and comes, helpless with it.)

\-- fin


End file.
